


Meet the Parents

by stravaganza



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: (Mentions of) Limb Loss and Limb Loss Recovery, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, But I promise everything is fluff and nothing hurts, Family Feels, Fluff, Harry and Merlin are Eggsy's adoptive parents in this one, Harry and Merlin are Good Dads, Harry and Merlin definitely weren't spies what are you talking about, Literal War Flashbacks, M/M, Military Background, No Kingsman, Past Military Career, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-09 18:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14721558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stravaganza/pseuds/stravaganza
Summary: "Come on, man. You haven’t survived two tours in Afghanistan to die at the hands of your boyfriend’s dads."Jesse has a feeling he's going to regret this dinner, but thankfully his feelings for Eggsy are way stronger than his fear of his (potential former secret agents) fathers.





	Meet the Parents

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vikingeggs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vikingeggs/gifts).



> Hey, so, this fic is a birthday present for dovecandies, except I'm almost two months late because I'm slow as hell. Still, I hope they like it!!
> 
> Jesse Hunter is dovecandies' to-go name for Tequila, which I've taken the liberty to use in this story because... well, I thought it for them, might as well use the proper name :P
> 
> Thanks to wanderlustingbibliophile for her betaing, and to unicornspaceinvasion, IndigoNight and AgentStannerShipper for their support and for listening to me ramble about this for six weeks. You guys are the best ♥
> 
> Any mistakes and non-sequitur are solely my fault, because I couldn’t be arsed to finish rereading this (or, rather, the more I looked at it, the more I felt like scrapping the whole thing). One day I may go back and fix that.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> PS. (I still hate the title lol)

There was no need to be nervous, Jesse knew. But that did nothing to keep him from actually  _ being _ nervous.

He was pretty sure his boyfriend could tell that by the way he was squeezing his hand in a crushing grip, the fine bones grinding together in his hold; but Eggsy didn’t complain, just patted the back of his fingers reassuringly. They didn’t speak, and Jesse regretted not telling him maybe it would be best to go home the moment Eggsy raised his fist to knock on the front door.

“Oh, hell,” Jesse mumbled under his breath, lowering his head and wishing he was wearing his cowboy hat, the wide brim of it usually hiding his expression in that position.

Eggsy squeezed his hand reassuringly in turn, and Jesse smiled when he felt his own bones being pressed together - a reminder that, for all the inches between them, Eggsy was just as strong as him and perfectly able to kick his ass. He hoped his hosts would see that, too.

_ Don’t worry about them _ , Eggsy had said.  _ They’re harmless _ , he’d said. Then, with an impish grin, he had added,  _ Mostly _ .

Jesse didn’t have much time to worry about that though, because the door opened and a tall bald man appeared, brandishing a sharp looking knife.

Ah, hell.

“Eggsy!” the man greeted them, stepping forth to wrap his arms around Eggsy and kiss his cheek affectionately, his knife held away from the boy and aimed towards Jesse. Just a bit, mind you, but enough to make Jesse swallow hard.

_ Come on, man. You haven’t survived two tours in Afghanistan to die at the hands of your boyfriend’s dads. _

“Hey, Merls,” Eggsy greeted back, a toothy grin on his face. Eggsy had explained he had never really called neither man ‘dad’, the memories of his own father still too fresh when he had been adopted, and so they had always been ‘Merls’ and ‘Harry’ to him. “This is Jesse, my boyfriend.”

Merlin pulled back from the embrace. His eyes cut from Eggsy to Jesse, turning sharp and calculating in a matter of seconds, but Jesse refused to stand down. He straightened his back, like he used to in front of his drill sergeant, and extended a hand.

“So I’ve heard,” Merlin said, his Scottish accent crisp as he reached to shake Jesse’s hand, the grip firm and subtly threatening.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Jesse blurted out, the word leaving his mouth before he could stop it, and he heard Eggsy giggle besides him while his own ears turned red.

“Please, Mr Hunter. You can call me Hamish, if you want.”

_ Ouch _ . Not even ‘Merlin’. Eggsy had mentioned his father all but hated his given name, and that he wanted Jesse to call him by it couldn’t be a good sign.

“Yes, sir,” Jesse answered automatically, ignoring the way his gut was telling him he should run, because if this man were to decide he wasn’t worthy of his son, no one would ever find his body.

“Come on in, lad. Can’t have you spend the whole night on the doorstep, can we?” Merlin said, turning to Eggsy and smiling again, like he wasn’t still casually pointing a knife straight at Jesse’s balls.

Whoever said the UK was safer because there were less guns around was full of crap. What Jesse wouldn’t do to have his old shotgun at his side - not to use it, but just as a reassurance that he could defend himself from Merlin’s blade if needed.

Despite Merlin’s words making it seem like he thought Jesse could (and probably should) stay outside the whole night, Eggsy tugged him into the house by the hand, his eyes glinting and his lips quirked in amusement. Of course he would enjoy this, the brat.

_ They’re actually huge softies, swear down _ , he had said back when they had first been invited to dinner.  _ They just like to play tough for my boyfriends. Have since I was a kid. So don’t go runnin’ for the hills, yeah? I’d rather like to keep you _ . That night had ended with a snog and a very nice pair of mutual blowjobs, but Jesse had a feeling he’d be lucky to get out of their dinner with his dick still attached - let alone fit for duty.

Merlin locked the door behind them and Jesse tried not to feel too much like a rabbit caught in a snare as he followed Eggsy’s lead and toed his boots off, despite his brain insisting he shouldn’t because it would be harder to run away barefoot. Eggsy offered to take his coat to hang it, but as he was handing it over Merlin took both of their jackets instead.

“Go say hello to your father, I’ll take care of these,” he said, and Eggsy rolled his eyes, amused.

Jesse wondered if it was just an excuse to snoop through his pockets, and really, he usually wasn’t that paranoid, but the conversation he had had with Eggsy earlier that day, after their shower and while Jesse tried to school his hair into something resembling order, kept playing in loop in his head.

_ What is it your dads do? _ , he had asked, and Eggsy’s answer had been,  _ Harry is a tailor and Merlin a software developer, slash hacker _ . That had clearly meant that Merlin wouldn’t even need to go through his things to know everything about Jesse.  _ You know how it is, military life never quite leaves you _ .

That was the only other thing he knew about the Harts - other than they had adopted Eggsy after his father had died in the army and his mother had spiraled into depression and alcoholism; that they had been soldiers as well, with great results and track records, some of which  _ may  _ not be found in official archives (which, in Jesse’s mind, meant black ops), and that they had retired when Harry had lost an eye on the field and Merlin had decided to follow his lover home. Eggsy always loved to retell the story of how, upon being denied retirement, Merlin had simply grabbed Harry and snogged the life out of him in front of a room full of their superiors, before revealing they had always been ‘poofs’. The army had to promptly boot him out, but at least they had the decency to admit that without Merlin most of their missions would have gone tits up, and so he was still honourably discharged. Eggsy had also hinted that sometimes the military still tried to hit Merlin up, but he had no idea whether that meant his dad was an actual spy or what - and, really, he didn’t even want to know. Mostly, though, he made a living out of web design, software development and hardware repairs at the small shop he owned not far from Kingsman tailors, where Harry worked.

And as much as Jesse had been nervous about meeting the both of them, he had always been more afraid - no, not ‘afraid, that’s a strong word, perhaps… concerned? - over meeting Harry. He had always thought of Merlin more like a lab rat, an egghead, someone who could definitely destroy your life through the internet but that you could easily win a fight against. He had been  _ so _ wrong, and now he was almost shaking in his socks at the thought: if  _ that _ was Merlin, what would Harry be like?

Jesse was already preparing himself for the worst, when they rounded the corner to the dining room.

“Eggsy! My sweet boy!” a man exclaimed, and Jesse could only blink at him for a moment.

He had been expecting someone more… threatening. A bit more like Merlin, but The Rock sized, maybe. Instead, in front of him was a man that he would have  _ really _ thought to be an unassuming tailor if he hadn’t already been told by Eggsy how appearances can be deceiving.

The man was as tall as Merlin, dressed to the nines in an expensive looking suit whereas Merlin had been in a more casual sweater-and-slacks combo, his face framed by thick rimmed tortoiseshell glasses, the left lense black to hide the missing eye behind it. His hair was perfectly styled in a way that made Jesse feel self-conscious about his undercut, but that he also immediately recognised as Eggsy’s we’re-going-to-a-fancy-place hairstyle.

That had him smiling, but at that exact moment Harry pulled back from the hug he had enveloped Eggsy in to zero in on Jesse with laser focus, making the smile freeze on his lips.

_ Shit, yeah, I can see the black ops now _ , he thought.

For an instant Harry’s remaining eye was just as cold and calculating as Merlin’s had been on the doorstep, but then the moment passed and he schooled his expression into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eye - still distant, but more in a “hurt my son and I’ll gut you like a fish” way rather than a “you’re going to be dead before the night is over” way, which was something - and offered his hand for Jesse to shake, which he dutifully hurried to do.

“Mr Hart, sir, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, and cringed inwardly at the way his American accent sounded like a scrap of metal thrown in a grinder to his own ears, his voice awkward and the words rambled in his haste to get them out first so he could be polite - and then the feeling increased tenfold when compared with Harry’s smooth voice and polished British accent.

“Not at all, dear boy, the pleasure’s all mine. I’ve heard an awful lot about you, and most of it were good things,” Harry said, his smile as tight as his grip on Jesse’s hand, and Jesse couldn’t help but glance at Eggsy with a frown while the boy did his best to look as innocent as a cherub. Before he could reply, Harry was gesturing at the dining room table with his reappropriated hand, and Jesse felt his own fall to his side. “Please, go sit, make yourself at home.”

Jesse hesitated. He looked around, and found that the table was already perfectly set, with cloth napkins folded in pretty origami shapes. A bottle of red wine was already open to breathe, the bread was already cut in thick slices and sitting in a bowl, even the porcelain salt and pepper shakers were already in place, standing there like tiny soldiers guarding the tableau. It looked like the dinner table one would see in a magazine, or in an oil painting even, or one of those reproductions of “how British aristocrats ate” that Jesse remembered seeing once in a history museum when he was a kid. It all looked too expensive for him to afford to repay if he were to accidentally chip a plate.

“Uh… isn’t there anything I could help with?” he asked, scratching his arm uncomfortably, unused to the tight shirt sleeves clinging to his skin.

“Nonsense, you’re a guest,” Harry denied him, but Jesse insisted.

“I’m not used to sitting on my hands, sir.”

“Well, there’s still the salad to season, but Merlin is very fastidious about my sodium intake, so he usually takes care of that,” Harry said affably, “and I was about to start cooking the fillets.”

Ah. “I’m afraid I only ever learned how to properly cook a steak on a barbeque grill, sir,” Jesse said apologetically. “The only times I tried to do that in a pan I ended up with a charred hunk of meat, and I’d rather not waste such a fine cut, sir.”

Boy, he really should cut the ‘sir’s out, but Mr Hart hadn’t even said “call me Harry,” unlike Merlin, and the last thing Jesse wanted was to come across as impolite.

“You can help me sharpen the knives, then,” Merlin said from behind Jesse, who did  _ not _ jump out of his skin at the sudden voice.

_ Speak of the devil _ …

Jesse definitely did  _ not _ startle, and he definitely did not need Eggsy to nudge him forward to follow Merlin deeper into the kitchen, where he had set up a leather stripe near the sink. The man immediately resumed his work on the knife he was still holding, and Jesse wasn’t exactly sure how he could help with that: Merlin seemed to have everything under control. Jesse glanced back, and found that Harry and Eggsy were both gone.

_ Ah, fuck _ .

Surely, that was where the shovel talk came in.

But instead, as Jesse stood there dreading the whole “hurt my son and you’ll regret it” spiel, Merlin handed him a couple of wicked sharp steak knives handle first and said, “Could you please wash these?”

It somehow managed to sound like an order despite being a question, and Jesse rolled his sleeves up without hesitation, folding them carefully so they wouldn’t droop back down nor crease too much, the way Eggsy had taught him. Then he took the knives and turned the faucet on, rinsing them a few times before reaching for a sponge and the dish soap after locating them.

He washed the knives dutifully while Merlin kept sharpening the rest of the set beside him, careful not to cut himself, working shoulder to shoulder with the man, in silence. When they were all clean and gleaming in the kitchen light, Jesse dried them methodically with a tea towel, humming absentmindedly to himself.

“I’ll go put them on the table,” Merlin said, taking the knives from him, and Jesse relinquished them easily - although slightly confused by the lack of threats. Were the Harts just going to pretend he wasn’t dating their son, or were they waiting for Jesse to cave in under the pressure of anticipation?

Either way, Jesse turned around to see Harry just returning to the kitchen - without Eggsy. As he walked past him, Merlin brushed a hand on his husband’s shoulder, and by the way Harry’s lips twitched Jesse had the impression the two men exchanged a private joke.

“Ah, Mr Hunter,” Harry said as Merlin left the room, a pleasant smile on his lips that still made Jesse feel like a trapped creature being stared down by a dangerous beast. “Come here, help me with the potatoes.”

Jesse didn’t need repeating. He stepped up to the oven, peering inside to see a baking dish full of those small, round potatoes the Brits seemed so fond of. They were roasting slowly, looking golden and crispy, dotted with herbs and spices. Jesse dared to open the oven, just a bit, to take a whiff.

“Smells delicious, sir,” he said, unsure of what he was supposed to do with them. “They look almost done.”

“Excellent,” Harry said. Then he furtively looked around the room, put his hand on Jesse’s shoulder to maneuver him beside the oven so he was standing in a way that hid it from view from the doorway, opened the door again and quickly added some salt to the potatoes. Then he added a dash of pepper and some olive oil and stirred to mix the new ingredients.

Merlin returned to the kitchen and stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow at them, and Jesse felt like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. Harry looked as innocent as anyone Jesse had ever seen, and he immediately knew who Eggsy had learned that look from. It made him giggle, especially when Merlin rolled his eyes and walked to a bowl on the counter, covered by a tea towel. He removed it to reveal a green salad with tomatoes, sliced carrots and bits of celery and green onion, and started to season it - pointedly putting little to no salt in it at all. When Harry rolled his good eye without even turning his back to look at Merlin, as if he just knew the man would pettily deny him some flavour, Jesse hoped he and Eggsy would grow to have a relationship just like that in the future.

That’s when he felt a hand on his hip, and a smile tugged at his lips as Eggsy lifted his arm and draped it over his own shoulders.

“Did they put you to work, babe?” Eggsy asked, looking up at him with the same impish curve to his mouth that he had been wearing before. “‘Cause I can tell ‘em to stop.”

“We hardly intended to take advantage of your boyfriend, Eggsy,” Harry sniffed, affronted, and Jesse had to chuckle at that as he settled his arm around Eggsy, splaying his hand between his shoulder blades.

“They just let me help around a bit, hun. I offered,” Jesse said. “Washed the knives and checked on the potatoes.”

Jesse and Harry exchanged a glance at that, already complicit in the tacit accord that they would not tell Merlin about the extra salt, even though by the way the Scotsman snorted he already knew without Jesse giving Harry away.

“Ooh, Merls let you touch his toys? That means he likes you,” Eggsy said, his grin broad and beautiful now, and Harry’s lips twitched in amusement.

“Actually, I was about to show Mr Hunter how to properly cook a fillet,” he said, and the younger men exchanged a glance, Eggsy’s eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Aces! That means Haz likes you, too,” he winked, and Jesse felt his ears turn pink despite himself, relief flooding through him.

“Or maybe I just don’t trust him to feed you properly,” Harry retorted, to which Eggsy snorted.

“If that was the case, you’d just drop by to bring me food pretty much every day.”

“Maybe I trust him to feed you but I don’t trust his American cooking skills,” Harry insisted.

Eggsy laughed out loud now, shaking his head. The banter was so amicable that Jesse didn’t even think he should be offended by the comment.

“You’re married to a man who thinks a stuffed sheep stomach is a proper meal,” Eggsy teased, dodging the tea towel that was thrown at him.

“If you have time to sass, you have time to help. Come on,” Merlin cajoled him.

Eggsy giggled and turned to press a kiss to Jesse’s clean shaven jaw, a happy smile still dancing on his lips even as he walked to his father’s side.

Jesse looked at them for a moment, then Harry closed the oven’s door and turned his attention to the meat. He showed Jesse how to cook it, how to sear it and how to use the fat and juices to let the outside brown, and it felt a hell of a lot like he had just stepped into an episode of Masterchef or something. Jesse soaked it all up, and grinned at Harry.

“I’ll try that on a steak first, and if I’ll ever get as good as you I’ll invite you both to dinner at our place, sir.”

“Merlin and I would love that,” Harry said as he put the pan in the oven, checking his watch and counting down second after second. Jesse counted in his head with him, taking a mental note of the time, and watched as Harry pulled it back out and onto the counter, reaching for the big kitchen knife Merlin had greeted him at the door with.

Jesse marvelled at his effortless technique as the tender meat was put on a cutting board and skilfully sliced up in thick strips to reveal the redness of the fillet’s insides, perfectly cooked to any award worthy chef’s liking. 

“That’s looking real good, Mr Hart,” Jesse said with a smile, and he couldn’t help but notice the way Harry seemed to preen at the praise.

“Why, thank you. Next time it’ll be your turn to do it all.” It was more relieving than it had any right to be, to know there would be a next time; it meant the Harts had no intention to kill him just yet, and he was yet to be deemed unworthy of his son. “Now we just need to serve. Could you fetch me the plates, Mr Hunter?”

“I’ll get them,” Merlin interrupted, making Jesse startle a bit. “Let Mr Hunter go wash his hands and sit at the table like a  _ guest _ ,” he chided, and Jesse wondered if the tone was meant for him or for Harry, who tutted.

“Very well. Eggsy…”

“I’ll show Jesse where the bathroom is, yep, gotcha!” he said with a grin, quickly dropping the tea towel he was drying his hands on over Merlin’s shoulder with a mischievous grin.

For a moment Jesse wondered if Eggsy wanted to sneak a snog behind closed doors - something he had been too nervous for before they’d left their place, and that he still was a bit too uneasy for. Then they arrived to the bathroom, and Jesse startled and cursed.

“Jesse, meet Mr Pickle,” Eggsy said, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “I knew your face would be priceless!”

“I wasn’t expecting a stuffed dog in a rich townhouse in London,” he admitted, shaking his head as he approached the small sink. “The bugs are more normal.”

“Insects,” Eggsy corrected him haughtily, in a tone Jesse immediately recognised as a parody of Harry’s.

“Heard that a lot as a kid, did ya?” Jesse smirked, turning the faucet on and putting his hands under the warm stream.

Eggsy sniffed and joined him, their hands crowding each other’s as they passed a bar of soap between them.

“Mr Pickle was Harry’s dog. Died before I got here, an’ I was terrified of him. I’d always wanted a puppy, but you can’t keep pets at the Estates, and when Harry and Merlin got me I thought I could have one. Cried for weeks when I saw Mr Pickle - thought that was what they were gonna do to me.”

Jesse listened quietly, like he always did whenever Eggsy opened up a bit about his past, something he still didn’t like to do even after a few years together. Jesse understood that, and he never pried, even as Eggsy studiously avoided his eyes to rub the soap between his fingers.

When he didn’t continue right away, the back of his neck pinker than it was moments before, Jesse knew he was feeling self conscious and turned his gaze to the water running along the porcelain and down the drain.

“I had a few dogs at the farm, when I was a kid,” he started, knowing that sometimes tit for tat was the best way to get through to Eggsy. “I never had one of my own, though, until I was twelve or so. My da’ and uncle always seemed to see them as an extension of the workforce, you know? Herding sheeps, keeping thieves away, that kinda thing. Sometimes they dropped like flies, too. People trying to sneak in would poison them, or they’d run away to get shot at in neighbouring farms… once my uncle ran one over while parking his pick-up, and then complained no one had trained the mutt properly.” He shook his head as he rinsed the suds off his hands. “He was a bit of a drunk. But they never got attached to them, is what I mean. They loved me just fine, but animals are just that- animals. Momma always said my heart was too soft, and when I got twelve they got me my first dog. I was supposed to care for it, train him, keep him by my side and all…”

There’s a pause, during which Eggsy turned the faucet off and picked a towel, sharing it with Jesse as they dried their hands.

“What happened?” he asked quietly, and Jesse shrugged.

“I was too afraid of not training Sheila properly and of her being ran over as well, so I gave her up to a school friend when I was thirteen. Got her into a much more loving home.”

Eggsy snorted, and Jesse chuckled when he realised it was eerily similar to what had happened to Eggsy.

“And how did you get over your fear of Mr Pickle?” Jesse asked.

“Wasn’t him I was afraid of, but the freaks that adopted me. I mean, just ‘cause me dad was friends with ‘em didn’t mean they were right in the head, y’know? And then one day Merlin came home with a box of fucking kittens he’d found in the rain, and I realised they were okay folks ‘cause one of them died and Harry nearly cried his eyes out, after having them for less than a day, just like I did.” He shook his head fondly at the memory. “We spent nights nursing them with warm milk and keeping them warm and comfortable until they started to open their eyes and walk around, and then we got a vet to come in once they seemed strong enough to actually survive and needed vaccinations and other stuff. Most got adopted, but we kept one.” Jesse smiled widely at that, and then looked around the bathroom pointedly, lifting an eyebrow. Eggsy punched him in the shoulder, but Jesse knew it was a loving gesture. “I refused to have Miss Mirtle stuffed. Buried her in the back garden myself.”

“Miss Mirtle?” Jesse said, a big smile on his face, his delight only growing when Eggsy’s ears turned pink.

“I thought I should give her a name befitting the household, alright?” he said as he folded the towel back up and replaced it on the rack.

_ You’re adorable _ , is what Jesse thinks, but what he says with a shrug is, “A’ight.”

“But you should know that if you ever break my heart, they will find a wall big enough to mount your stuffed body on,” Eggsy said, his lips twitching with the effort of keeping a straight face.

“You giving me your own shovel talk now?” Jesse said with a bark of laughter, putting his hands on Eggsy’s hips and pulling him closer, smiling against the side of his head when Eggsy let out a small noise of indifference.

“Mayhaps,” he said in a mock Scottish accent, and Jesse dissolved into giggles in the space between Eggsy’s shoulder and his neck.

That’s when Harry’s voice called for them from the dining room, startling Jesse so much he pulled back like he was burned, his face turning beet red.

“I hope you’re not doing anything to traumatise Mr Pickle!”

Eggsy looked over his shoulder at Jesse in amusement and called back, “As if you’ve never done anything like that, you freak!”

“Young man! Is that any way to talk to your father?” Merlin called, by his tone was so light and practiced that Jesse felt it must have been normal, like an inside joke between them.

He could imagine far too easily a defiant teen-aged Eggsy sitting on the toilet bowl for far too long with his GameBoy, unwilling to be coaxed out because he too busy trying to win a level, yelling about not wanting to wank in front of a dead dog anyway.

“It is when he’s being a bother!”

Apparently that concluded the exchange, because Eggsy nodded his head towards the door and Jesse followed dutifully back into the dining room, both men still grinning.

When they return to the dining room, Jesse can’t help but notice Harry and Merlin finished putting together their dinner: on each plate were a few slices of fillet on a bed of salad, a few drops of balsamic vinegar and what looked like parmesan cheese cut into thin little squares garnishing the dish. In the middle of the table was the baking dish with the potatoes, roasted to golden perfection, and next to it were a salt and pepper shaker that only now Jesse realised were shaped like rabbits.

Mating rabbits.

“Woah,” Jesse said, blinking at the presentation.

“ _ Tagliata _ . It just means ‘cut’, but it sounds fancier in Italian,” Harry said with a pleased smile at the impressed face Jesse made.

“I never had Italian style steak before,” the man said with a small smile as Eggsy sat down. Harry sat at the head of the table, Merlin at his right and Eggsy at his left, and Jesse smiled when his boyfriend patted the empty chair next to him.

Jesse pulled it back a bit and slid carefully in his seat, his back to Eggsy for a moment before he bent the stiff joint of his left leg and maneuvered himself in place.

Their hosts noticed, of course they did, but Jesse was pretty sure they knew already. He remembered Eggsy mentioning writing letters home when they were still in Afghanistan, still hesitant and getting to know each other, still thinking frantically  _ don’t ask, don’t tell _ while making out in one utility closet or another, hoping their commanding officers wouldn’t find them.

And so, yeah, they probably knew all about how Eggsy had pulled his arse out of the fire (quite literally) after his patrol had been ambushed - their humvees hit by IEDs and then assaulted by heavy fire, soldiers screaming and yelling in English, Spanish and Arabic, bullets flying in every direction; Jesse could still remember clearly his surprise when this pipsqueak of a guy came rushing in, guns blazing, hand-to-hand on point, taking down five enemy soldiers on his own before loudly saying “fucking hell” and fireman carrying Jesse to safety like he weighed nothing, hooking his arm around his remaining leg and all but sprinting away, only to then rush back in to save two more soldiers while his squad kept their attackers at bay.

It’s not that Jesse hadn’t known Eggsy to be a badass, but one thing was to know he was an army medic, and another thing was to witness him all but jumping in front of enemy fire like he was Captain fucking America, or like he didn’t know bulletproof vests wouldn’t stop a bullet from hurting like a bitch.

Eggsy alone gave him renewed respect for Her Majesty’s Armed Forces, even if he later admitted to his training being more extensive than standard RAMC officers received, especially when he came back to personally tend to his wounds. Jesse didn’t remember much about those. He remembered the pain, sure, but also a strange sort of numbness. It had felt so unreal to look down and see his left leg ending at the knee, to move those muscles, to  _ feel _ them moving, but seeing no responding movements… but not much more other than that. His therapist said that it was only normal that his mind would remove part of the trauma rather than try and deal with it. Jesse just counted himself lucky that his mind didn’t just wipe the whole experience, or he would have forgotten all about the fire burning behind Eggsy’s sparkling green eyes as he treated his leg under the scorching Afghan sun, cursing over the sand and the lack of enough water to properly clean the wound, and the way he sang under his breath, although Jesse wasn’t sure if it was to comfort him or just a nervous habit. It didn’t matter: Eggsy had a lovely voice, even if he was too focused on his work to get the lyrics right, and it helped keep Jesse awake despite the pain and the adrenaline crash trying to turn his brain off.

But more than that, he was glad his brain allowed him to remember the way Eggsy had said, “Fuckin’ hell, Jesse, you gotta make it, I was gonna ask you on a date. Can’t do that if you peg out, so try not to, yeah?”

Jesse must have passed out some time around that, because when he’d woken up next he found himself on a bed, back at base, with a sandy blond doctor that was not  _ his _ sandy blond doctor. For a moment Jesse wondered whether all British medics were tiny blond dudes, but he knew better than to voice those thoughts - and not just because he knew this man could probably beat his ass as easily as Eggsy could, but because one just doesn’t insult the people treating them. Or at least, shouldn’t. His mama had taught him better than that - hell, his mama had taught him not to mock people over their height, period.

The fact that he had been thinking that was just an indication of how muddled his brain was, and why the man hovering over him had to call his name a few times before Jesse could even blink in response.

“Mmh?”

“Lieutenant Hunter, can you hear me?”

Jesse could hear just fine, but his mouth had been feeling like he had swallowed the whole desert, and so he just nodded while the doctor took some notes on a clipboard.

“That’s good. Your hearing wasn’t damaged by the explosion, your concussion is mild, and there was minimal shrapnel damage from the vehicle you were on. All in all, you’re rather alright. Do you remember what happened?”

Jesse had blinked hazily, licked his dry lips, and then said, humourlessly, “Boom.”

The doctor’s lips had quirked nevertheless, and he started to say something when a voice had come from behind him.

“Captain?”

“Unwin.” The doctor had turned around and gestured towards Jesse. “Would you like to take over?”

“Sir. Yes, sir,” Eggsy had said, saluting briefly and taking the clipboard as the doctor walked past him and patted him on the shoulder.

“Bloody well done, Unwin,” he had said, before heading towards another bed, where another soldier was resting. Jesse had recognised him as someone he had seen around Camp Bastion in the time his unit had spent there.

Eggsy had pulled the curtains around Jesse’s hospital bed closed before he went to fill a glass with water from a plastic bottle, putting a straw in it before offering it to Jesse.

Then he had said, “ _ Boom _ . That’s eloquent even by your standards.”

Jesse could only snort softly before starting to drink eagerly.

“I should start calling you Tequila, you know? Like the drink. Tequila Boom Boom.”

“I don’t think I deserve that,” Jesse had said weakly once the glass was empty.

“It’s what you get for making me worry.”

“Aww, babe, you were worried about me?” Jesse had teased, but when Eggsy had looked at him he knew the other was serious. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

It had taken Jesse a moment to gather enough courage to ask, “How bad…?”

“You’ve lost your leg. I have some more assessments to make, but it would seem that’s the worst of it. Mild concussion, few scrapes, but that’s about it. Others weren’t so lucky. Pierson, and Captain Daniels, from your unit. Towers from mine.”

Oh. “Shit.” Jack hadn’t been the best person in the world - always making crude jokes only he laughed about - but he had always been a good soldier. And Pierson had been a rookie, which had only made Jesse’s stomach churn with unease. “Sorry about your guy.”

Eggsy had shrugged and smiled, but it hadn’t reached his eyes. “It’s war, innit?”

The rest of the check up had gone by in relative silence, until Eggsy had said, “I heard they’re thinking of making you Captain. And giving you a medal, of course.”

“To make up for the fact they have to send me home?” Jesse had scoffed, trying to sit up more.

“You’re a damn good soldier and they wish they didn’t have to let you go, that’s why.”

“I’d rather go back to my farm than be stuck taking decisions at a desk.”

Eggsy had frowned at his clipboard at that, and hummed. “So you’re going back to the States?” Jesse had told him a few times about how little he had waiting for him back there.

“Where else would I go?”

“Well.” Eggsy had put the clipboard down, then, and carefully sat on the edge of the bed. “They’ve offered to make me Lieutenant, not for the first time. Said no, again. Don’t want any of that responsibility, yeah? It’s already enough to worry about the people I’m tryina fix. Dunno how Watson manages.” Jesse had nodded in understanding; he had asked about Eggsy’s lack of advancement in the ranks before, but the young man had never really explained before. “You know, I joined the army to be like my dads, and save lives. Make sure people like you got to go home to their families and their kids. And I’ve done that, time and time again. And now, like my dads…” Eggsy had trailed off then, hesitant, before adding, “Like my dads, I’m going to come home with you.”

That had confused Jesse, so much that he had asked, “What?”

And Eggsy, bless him, had given him that beautiful smile of his and said, “You know how I have two dads, yeah? Well, they was in the army until Harry got shot in the head. Lost an eye, was a fucking mess. And Merlin, he just went, stood up to their COs and went, that’s me fuckin’ boyfriend and I’m going home with him. And that’s when Don’t ask, Don’t tell was the best a man could hope for. And he was so badass, they cut his last tour short so he could go home to Harry. So… since they’ve already scheduled to airlift you to Ramstein Base in Germany for rehab… Well, I thought I could finish my tour and join you there. And then take you home with me, if that’s something you want.”

The last part had been rushed out, but Jesse had taken Eggsy’s hand in his own and smiled.

And there they were, nine months later, having dinner with those same men Jesse had heard so much about. Who had probably read his record, because one of them was  _ definitely _ a spy. Or had been. Or… something.

So, yes, they probably already knew everything about him whether Eggsy had told them or not. Hopefully that would save him from having an awkward conversation with them.

“Could you pass me Harry?” Merlin asked casually, and Jesse startled out of his thoughts.

“Uh, what?” He must have heard wrong. By his side, Eggsy snorted.

“He means the pepper shaker, babe. The black rabbit,” he explained.

Jesse blinked and looked at the two shakers in confusion.

“Why would it be called…” he started, but then he froze and closed his mouth with a click. The black bunny, ‘Harry’, was the one on the… receiving end. The implication hit Jesse like a truck, and he felt his whole face heat up like someone had set him on fire. He picked up the ceramic statuine and passed it to Merlin with a quiet, “Here you go, sir.”

Merlin took the bunny to sprinkle some pepper on his steak, and Harry tutted at their son.

“Now now, Eggsy. You made the exact same face when you realised.”

“Yeah, ‘cause those things have been around since I was little and I had no way to get it,” Eggsy said with an over-exaggerated grimace. “I didn’t think there was anything wrong with two playing bunnies until I hit my teen years.”

“They were a gift from  _ James _ , what did you expect?” Merlin said, and for a moment Jesse wondered who that was.

“To be fair, I didn’t think there was anything wrong with uncle James until I hit my teen years, either,” Eggsy retorted, making Harry snort ungentlemanly behind his hand.

Jesse raised his eyebrow in question, but Eggsy shrugged. “You’ll see when you’ll meet him. He’s harmless, if you don’t mind his brand of humour.”

The thought that Eggsy was already planning for him to meet his whole family made something warm bloom in the pit of Jesse’s stomach, and he smiled at the younger man, making him want to cup his face and kiss him even in front of his parents.

Jesse imitated Harry and Merlin, placing his napkin in his lap, but when they reached for their cutlery he joined his hands over the plate.

There was a moment of awkward silence, and Jesse felt himself flush again. “Uh…”

He was about to lower his hands, but Eggsy put his hand on his forearm and said, “Jesse usually says Grace before eating.” Like it was the easiest thing in the world, like he hadn’t told him Merlin and Harry were as non-religious as they came.

“Oh, of course,” Harry said after a beat, putting his fork and knife back down. “I’m sorry. Please, go ahead.”

The Harts didn’t put their hands together in prayer, and Jesse was glad despite himself. It meant they weren’t humouring him, but giving him space for his belief and respecting it. Jesse smiled and nodded his head in thanks, still feeling a bit embarrassed. But it didn’t look like they were judging him, and that helped him relax. He bowed his head and closed his eyes.

“We thank you, Lord, for this food you’ve brought to our table. Bless this meal, bless this family, and may you keep watching over us. Amen.”

He signed himself and unfolded his hands, looking back at the men around the table. They still had the same calm, kind expression on their face. It wasn’t the “oh, look at this simpleton and his antiquated beliefs” look he had seen sometimes on people, but it wasn’t the awkward, sometimes put-upon “are you finished with the charade? I hate to fake smile” kind of expression some people defaulted to, either.

“Thank you for keeping us in your prayers, boyo,” Merlin said, his tone as honest as it had been for the rest of the evening.

Jesse blinked at him in surprise. “I thought you didn’t believe?” he asked, confused.

“You’re right. We don’t. But you do,” Merlin said, matter of factly. “I, and Harry too, grew up to have quite a cynical view of the world. I believe in science above all else. But you do believe in God, and you asked him to look after us. It means a lot to us.” Harry nodded in agreement, a smile on his lips.

“You don’t think it’s silly a grown man believes in God?” Jesse asked, quoting something one of his commanding officers had told him once.

“Of course not!” Harry said, frowning. “Why would we? Everyone believes in something, and I’ve always been of the impression that as long as that belief doesn’t harm anyone else, everyone should be free to believe in anything they want.”

That was even more of a surprise to him. He had met a lot of atheists who blamed his belief on his origins. What could a country boy know about the world? Of course he still believed in God, he probably also shot guns in the air on the fourth of July and fucked his cousins, didn’t he? After all, he was just white trash from rural Kentucky.

At least, that was what a surprising amount of people had thought of him in the army. Sure, most minded their own business, but Jesse had had to deal with that sort of crap often enough to be wary of baring this side of him to new people. He was lucky when people just cracked bad Brokeback Mountain jokes about him being a gay cowboy.

Jesse turned towards Eggsy, and found the younger man smiling at him. Jesse would never stop believing that the British medic had been put on his path by God himself, written down in the plan the Lord had for him ever since day one. And, as such, he would never stop thanking the Lord for it. Eggsy put his hand on Jesse’s, who turned his own to squeeze the smaller fingers gently.

“C’mon, let’s eat! I can’t wait to try everything. It looks like the best meal I’ve ever had and I ain’t even started,” Jesse said, smiling at his boyfriend first and then at his fathers. He had to blush when he found them both grinning, glancing between the two of them and then between themselves.

“Well, now I sure hope you haven’t too high expectations… I’d hate to disappoint,” Harry said, but the tone was as bashful as Eggsy’s was whenever he managed one of those cool freerunning moves that had Jesse’s head spinning.

“I’m sure you won’t, sir,” Jesse said.

“Please, Harry will do,” the man replied, and Jesse felt a grin split his face. He glanced at Eggsy again to find him wearing a similar expression.

“Of course sir- Harry, sir,” Jesse said, feeling heat creep up his cheeks.

To keep from shoving his foot so far down his throat that he’d need to get a new prosthetic to replace it, Jesse cut up a bit of meat and brought it to his lips, gathering in the same forkful some dressing, a bit of salad and a piece of cheese.

“Holy cow,” he said in a whisper, his voice almost reverent. “ _ How _ ,” he breathed, closing his eyes to savour his mouthful.

The meat was so tender it melted in his mouth, and the strong flavour of the balsamic vinegar brought out the sweetness of the cut. The salad sweetened the morsel further, and the salty parmesan added just that little bit of  _ something _ the dish needed to taste heavenly.

“Good?” Harry asked, and for all that Jesse had only known him a few hours, he could still hear the pride in his voice. When he opened his eyes, the man was all but preening like a peacock, his chest puffed out and his back straight as he smiled in satisfaction.

“ _ Good _ ? This has to be the best thing I’ve ever eaten - and I’m not saying it to get in your good graces, it really is delicious,” Jesse said emphatically.

Eggsy laughed softly, the kind of laugh Jesse adored. It was a bit more than a chuckle, but still too stifled to be a full laugh, Eggsy’s voice somewhere between breathy and high-pitched, his mouth hidden behind a hand. The dimples on his cheeks always came out when he laughed like that, and Jesse could only stare at him with a smile so dopey he could tell he probably looked like a lovestruck fool.

“My Harry is very talented, isn’t he?” Merlin said, the fondness in his voice palpable. Jesse looked at the two men, at the way they were exchanging little pleased smiles, and nodded.

“He really is. Shame I can’t say Eggsy took after him,” Jesse teased with a smirk, winking at Merlin just as Eggsy gasped and protested with an, “Oi!”

Harry snorted and then tried to cover it with a cough, but Eggsy was already pouting something fierce.

“That’s rich coming from someone who only knows how to cook eggs and pasta,” Eggsy said.

The boy was far too adorable for a trained military man perfectly capable of killing a man with the silverware fork he was holding.

“Hey, I can do rice, too.”

“We have a rice cooker, I’m not sure that counts,” Eggsy sniffed, turning towards his plate and shoving a whole strip of meat in his mouth, chewing with purpose.

As good as dinner was, Jesse put the cutlery down in favour of wrapping his arm around Eggsy, pressing a kiss to his temple, then his cheeks, even as he got a glare for his trouble by his boyfriend.

“I’m fully aware that I’m an awful cook, honey, but who’s the one who nearly set the kitchen on fire because the soccer game was on and he got distracted?” he teased, his tone so sweet that his own teeth were probably developing cavities as he spoke.

Eggsy blushed and rolled his eyes. “Babe, why d’ya have to call me out in front of my dads?” he grumbled, and Jesse couldn’t help but notice the look on Merlin and Harry’s face at the simple word. They were so clearly happy, they were practically glowing.

“Didn’t seem fair I had to be the only awkward one throughout dinner,” he chuckled, pressing another kiss to Eggsy’s temple.

“You’re an idiot. And you know perfectly well it’s  _ football _ , not  _ soccer _ , Tequila!” Eggsy said, sniffing haughtily, but when he turned to glance sideways at him, Jesse could see him trying to refrain from grinning.

“Tequila?” Harry inquired, curiosity piqued by the unusual nickname.

“Oh, er…” Jesse bit his lip, feeling a bit embarrassed. He hoped they wouldn’t think he had a drinking problem, but Eggsy was quick to explain.

“Yeah. Tequila Boom Boom, ‘cause he went and got himself blown up,” he said, and Jesse bowed his head, cheeks red and neck burning. Of course, it hadn’t been his fault and it’s not something he should feel ashamed of, but still... 

He looked up when he heard a loud snort, and was surprised to find it came from  _ Merlin _ .

“Seriously?” Harry asked while his husband guffawed helplessly, so much that Jesse thought he’d lean his head against the table.

“It’s not that funny,” Eggsy said, sounding as surprised as Jesse felt.

Harry rolled his eye, and grumbled something under his breath. Then he spoke up and said, “You’d be surprised about what Hamish finds funny,” he sniffed. “When I woke up from my coma after being shot, he started calling me Polyphemus.”

“You’re kidding me,” Eggsy gasped, and Jesse decided to keep quiet. He had no idea what the word meant, but he wasn’t going to ask and risk they would laugh at him for his ignorance. Not that they seemed like the types who would, especially now that he had gotten to know them a bit, but still…

Eggsy still came to his rescue, with the same gentle tone he always used whenever he knew something Jesse didn’t and explained it to him. Eggsy loved to share his surprisingly vast knowledge, and he always managed to not sound condescending about it, even where anyone else would have.

“Polyphemus is a cyclop, a mythical creature featured in the classic Greek tale,  _ The Odyssey _ . A one-eyed monster who’s just one of many things who delay the hero’s return home,” he explained.

It had been one of the many things that had impressed Jesse, just how much Eggsy  _ knew _ about all kinds of things. Classical literature, music, sports, art, languages… Eggsy had been given a private school education, but from the way he talked and acted he was still the estate kid whose da had died a hero’s death. Of course, the fact that he was an army doctor had already told Jesse enough about how smart Eggsy was, under his carefree, silly boy attitude, but the more he had gotten to know him, the more he had found himself falling helplessly in love with him.

“Ah, I can see the irony there, then,” Jesse said, smiling. “Although in this case, being one-eyed actually brought you both home, rather than kept you away, wouldn’t’ya say?”

Merlin took a few deep breaths and wiped a tear from his eye, but nodded in acknowledgement. “Aye, that’s true, but Harry has always been a lover of classic literature… you could say he brought the nickname on himself.”

“Oh, sure, that’s exactly why I went and got myself shot in the head,” Harry groused.

Jesse could only grin widely when Merlin cupped his husband’s face with a gentle hand, turning him so he could meet his eye. They didn’t even need to say anything: they held each other’s gazes intensely, and a silent conversation went on between them. Merlin’s fondness and love were written so plainly all over him, that it was no surprise to Jesse that Harry just slumped in his seat, his posture melting in a way that clearly stated “I can’t stay mad at you”. Merlin’s thumb sweeped Harry’s cheekbone, on the patch of skin just under the blacked out lense of his glasses, and then leaned in so they could exchange the softest kiss Jesse had ever seen.

It made him blush a bit, his skin prickling at witnessing such an intimate moment between the two men, and he once more found himself hoping he could get the same relationship with Eggsy.

He pulled back from his boyfriend enough to leave him free to start eating again. Jesse followed his lead and picked his fork and knife again, resuming his meal.

They chatted idly for a while, talking about their daily activities and whatnot. About how much fun Merlin had developing new security systems and firewalls, fixing battered old computers and perfecting softwares both old and new; how he sometimes relied on Harry’s more classic tastes when it came to web designing for shops or businesses that weren’t too much into the minimalist style that most people seemed to favour nowadays; about how he and Harry would share lunch almost every day in one of the restaurants around their shops, or bringing something from home to eat at Merlin’s; about the pleasure Harry took in making beautiful suits for people, seeing the joy in their eyes when they would look at themselves in the mirror and feel confident, happy with what they saw.

“I was surprised to find out how much I love tailoring. I never would’ve thought I could make a career out of it, to be honest. I’d always loved a good suit and fine fabrics, but there’s a world of difference between wearing one and making one, isn’t there?” Harry said, sipping at his wine.

Jesse nodded, listening more than he was talking, busy as he was stuffing his face with roasted potatoes - golden and crispy on the outside but buttery and soft on the inside, with the perfect amount of herbs and spice.

“But once I started, it turned out that I had an… eye for it,” Harry delivered, causing Eggsy and Merlin to groan in the put-upon way typical of those who had heard a joke a hundred times and then some.

Jesse, however, nearly choked on his mouthful at the line, hitting his chest as he giggled like a madman, his eyes tearing up as much from the laughter than they did from the oxygen deprivation.

“Come on, Haz, I thought you’d promised not to kill Tequila!” Eggsy protested, his words light even though his hand went to rest on Jesse’s back, between his shoulder blades, rubbing the skin there through his shirt. As much as he didn’t want Eggsy to worry about him, Jesse was glad of the care his boyfriend always showed.

“You can’t blame me for using my most successful joke to date on dear Jesse, here,” Harry said, hiding his smirk behind his wine glass, the twinkle of amusement in his eye simply undeniable.

“He’s right, lad,” Merlin interceded, “you know he’s shite at making jokes. Let him say the one that actually has people cracking up.”

“I wish he’d wait for Jesse to chew before doing so,” Eggsy replied with a roll of his eyes, almost at the same time as Harry said, “Excuse me! I am  _ very good _ at jokes!”

Jesse watched them bicker for a bit as he downed a glass of water to get the lump of potatoes safely down to his belly, and found himself impossibly fond of everyone in the room. For all that he had been terrified just a few hours prior, he was glad he had let Eggsy talk him into meeting his parents.

“My comedic skills are beside the point,” Harry interrupted his musings, raising his voice enough to end their argument. “What I meant is, all that you’re going through now will pass, Jesse. You will find new passions and pick up old hobbies, maybe make a career out of one of them. Rebuild your life, despite how upside down it may feel now.”

Their eyes met when Harry put the glass down, and Jesse felt a lump in his throat that had little to do with the potato-accident. Harry’s expression was open and clear, something that spoke of support and, perhaps, even affection.

Jesse could read that expression just fine: even though he had rarely, if ever, seen it on his own father’s face, he had seen it countless times on his fellow soldiers’, and on Eggsy’s. It meant “Don’t worry, son, I’ve got your back.”

He smiled and gave a small nod of understanding, Jesse’s eyes prickling at the silent promise. He wanted to thank Harry, but was afraid of how croaking his voice would come out if he tried to speak.

Merlin came to his rescue then, standing up and catching Jesse’s eye.

“If you’re done, boyo, would you mind helping me with dessert?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jesse glanced between him, Harry and Eggsy, cleared his throat, and then said, “Of course, sir.”

Together they gathered their dirty dishes and cutleries, piling them up so they could bring them and the empty baking dish and salad bowl out in just one trip. Jesse was still terrified of dropping the fine china plates and making a fool of himself, even though his hands were usually quite steady. He had just walked past the archway that brought him back into the kitchen when he heard Harry’s voice carrying on to him, soft words of praise that had his chest swell with pride.

“He’s a remarkable man, Eggsy.”

“Yeah, I know.”

The rest of the conversation was cut short by the clinking of the plates as Jesse put them carefully on the counter, next to the sink.

“Could you take care of those while I fix dessert?” Merlin asked, to which Jesse nodded.

“It’d be my pleasure,” he replied honestly, glad he wouldn’t be kept sitting on his hands.

Rinsing the plates was a familiar task, a chore he didn’t mind excessively if not for the fact that he was too tall for most sinks, and often ended up slouching or bending over them, and his back would end up hurting. But just as he was wondering what products he should use to start soaping the silver cutlery up, Merlin pointed at one of the cabinets on his way to the fridge.

“Pull that handle, the dishwasher’s in there. Harry insisted it would ruin the line of the kitchen if we didn’t hide it like that.”

Jesse did as told, and chuckled when the most modern dishwasher he had ever seen popped out of the otherwise unassuming cabinet, sparkling steel rolling out from under the dark wood.

“That’s a neat trick. And I suppose he’s right, it wouldn’t have exactly fit in with the mahogany,” he said as he started to load it, careful not to chip the plates.

“Oh? You know your woods,” Merlin said as he stored a couple of tupperwares of leftovers in the fridge and pulled out four small baking dishes, two at the time. “Is there some truth to all those cowboy stereotypes, then?”

Jesse chuckled and shook his head. “Nah, not really. I know just enough to know which kinda woods are best for carving, and which kinds are sturdy enough to repair a barn. Other than that I know trees, and flowers, and plants in general, but Eggsy was the first one to talk to me about the differences between mahogany and pine and cherry wood, when we went looking for an apartment of our own.”

“You didn’t stay in the housing the army provided for you for long,” Merlin stated, and Jesse tried not to think it creepy that the man seemed to know that to be a fact.

He shrugged. “Not really, no. I was in the hospital for the most part, a good chunk of that time spent in rehab. Then Eggsy came back, and crashed here from what he told me, but my army pension ain’t much so we stayed in the housing just to have a place to rest our heads. Technically he wasn’t allowed to stay there with me, seein’ that it was a one room apartment, but Eggsy told me there was a loophole ‘cause of the whole leg thing.” Jesse glanced at Merlin, and the man looked perfectly unfazed - probably because he had been the one to tell Eggsy about the loophole in the first place.

“But your current accommodations are better?” Merlin asked casually, taking tin foil off from on top of the ramekins, revealing the crème brûlée underneath.

“Yeah,” Jesse said, smiling. Eggsy had surely told his dads about their new flat. “It’s not as close as the housing to the hospital, so going to PT can be a pain, but it’s close to a communal swimming pool. Eggsy and I go there a couple of times a week, more if possible. Helps me with my leg,” he explained. “It’s not as big as this place, but it has it all, you know? Bedroom, living room, kitchen, bathroom with a tub. Came furnished, and with appliances… It’s good. Nice, for now.”

The conversation felt a bit stilted, with Merlin leaning his weight on his hands on the counter, looking so intensely at Jesse that he was making the back of his knee sweat.

Jesse was tempted to keep rambling about their flat to fill the silence, but then Merlin spoke, his tone stern in a way that brooked no argument, but at the same time kind enough that Jesse understood Merlin just wanted to make sure he would be taken seriously.

“You’re adjusting. Settling. Reacquainting yourself with civilian life, struggling with PTSD, with rehab, with your amputated limb. It’s a lot to deal with. A hell of a lot.” A pause. “I can’t say that I’ve been in your shoes, but Harry has. I’ve seen him deal, and I’ve helped him deal. If anything, I know what awaits you and Eggsy, and he’s the one whose shoes I’ve worn before. It’s going to be tough. Harry and I had to manage on our own, but you and Eggsy won’t.” Merlin’s gaze was so intense, Jesse couldn’t look away even as emotion surged in him again, making his breath catch. “There will be difficult moments, but from what I’ve seen tonight, you’ll pull through.”

Merlin reached into a cupboard and pulled out a small blowtorch, and Jesse took a step back in surprise.

“Here comes the shovel talk?” he asked with a tight smile, swallowing his nerves.

“You’re both adults, Tequila, and I trust my son’s judgement and his common sense. If you ever broke his heart, he’d make you regret it himself. Not to mention, you seem like the sort of man who would beat himself up over it,” Merlin said. The use of his nickname didn’t go unnoticed.

The Scotsman put all the ramekins in a row, and Jesse watched intently as he sprinkled sugar on top of them all.

“That said,” he said without pausing, “don’t think I won’t make your life hell if you do break his heart.”

Jesse didn’t doubt it. He watched as Merlin used the blowtorch expertly to caramelize the crème brûlée, and breathed in the sweet scent of burning sugar, watching as the surface of each turned brown and bubbled briefly.

“Did you make them?” Jesse asked, admiring the way Merlin worked with precision and deep focus.

Merlin put the blowtorch down and set the desserts to cool down.

“Nay, I just don’t trust Harry with an open flame. Last time he tried this, he burnt his eyebrows off. We agreed the man with less hair and better depth perception should do this part,” he replied with a smile playing on his lips, and Jesse threw his head back and laughed. “It helps that I regularly use this kind of thing in my workshop.”

“Sounds like you have a ton of tales to tell,” Jesse grinned, and Merlin nodded his head.

“That I do, luckily. A lifetime’s worth of them. I’m sure there’ll be time to tell them. You’re going to stick around, after all.”

“I’d like that, sir.”

“Please, call me Merlin,” the man replied, and Jesse blinked at him in surprise. Merlin smiled and reached to put his hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “Welcome to the family, Tequila.”

Jesse’s eyes prickled again, and he smiled back at the man, his lips wobbling with emotions.

“Thank you, si- Merlin. It’s a honour,” he said, his voice small and tremulous.

Merlin smiled back softly and pulled back, picking up two of the ramekins.

“Now we should take these into the other room. I’m sure Harry will want to show you pictures of when Eggsy was just a wee lad, so we better hurry,” he said, heading back to the dining room.

Jesse followed, feeling lighter than he had in a long while.

Later, when Eggsy and he were climbing in the cab that would take them home - their bellies full and their hearts warm - Jesse took his boyfriend’s hand and squeezed it tightly.

“I think they liked me,” he said, still incredulous.

“Liked? Babe, they loved you. Harry was ‘bout to break out the adoptions papers,” Eggsy said with a lopsided grin, made soft by good wine, good food, and good company.

“That might be a problem for us,” Jesse chuckled as the driver took off.

Eggsy hummed and shifted closer, turning so he could press himself against Jesse’s side. He let go of his hand so he could warp his arm around him, and Eggsy did the same, closing his eyes.

“Don’t blame me. Not my fault they’re two crazy old men, innit? That’s family for you,” Eggsy mumbled against his shoulder, already sleepy.

Jesse hugged Eggsy tightly and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, smiling into the soft hair there. “Yeah, it is. And I think I’m gonna fit right in.”

**Author's Note:**

> (Was that a John Watson cameo? Yes, yes it was. Ignore that the timeline is wrong.)
> 
> RAMC = Royal Army Medical Corps
> 
> Edit: I can't believe I forgot to link the beautiful [salt and pepper shakers](https://www.menkind.co.uk/media/catalog/product/cache/4bfa87906ad51e03f514746895e87cfe/i/n/in_season_salt_and_pepper_shakers.jpg)


End file.
